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Thank you, Star, for hosting me on Bibliophilic Book Blog today. I really appreciate the opportunity to give your readers a sneak peek at my new romance novella, The Possibilities of Amy, and to provide a little background of the story.

Our first romance. Most of us were naïve and innocent, with our young expectations little more than a hope chest for the future.

But what about the boy or girl who never revealed their interest? Keeping their emotions hidden, they adored, even loved us from afar—too self-conscious to disclose their real feelings. Oh sure, there might have been signs—a blushing face or a stammered reply to a simple question. But we didn’t recognize them, or perhaps misinterpreted them, mistakenly deciding a show of “indifference” to be a lack of interest.

Of course, with time comes perspective—and the occasional discovery of a secret. Many years later, I learned that there was at least one boy who spent as much time thinking about me as I did about him. Night after night, he told me, he had picked up the phone and dialed all the numbers except the last one—too shy, or scared, or simply lacking the self-confidence to let it ring for fear I’d answer, and hearing my voice on the other end, he might not know what to say.

At my twentieth reunion—after he’d introduced me to his wife and shown me a picture of his two daughters—he told me about those nights from so many years ago, how he had written out a complete script with different responses, based on how I might answer his questions.

As we ate our wilted salads and pretended to enjoy the overdone roast beef, we laughed, he readily admitting how silly he had been, allowing his lack of experience and risk of rejection to keep him from the very experience he craved.

Later that night I cried. I would have given anything to know how he felt then, to know how much he cared.

In The Possibilities of Amy, I wanted to recapture those poignant memories, especially from the male’s perspective, imagining what it would be like to be in his shoes instead of mine.

Excerpt:

I had spent most of the lunch hour sitting inside an unoccupied classroom that would soon become Senior English. Outside, half the school’s population was milling around the campus, the constant drone of a thousand conversations in seductive contrast to the tomb-like quiet of the empty room.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Amy going out with Pete. I felt as if some malevolent specter had reached deep into my gut, indiscriminately ripping and tearing, mutilating the very fabric that held me together.

I looked across the sea of empty desks. Amy’s seat was toward the back. I sat six rows in front of her and three across. It was the worst possible arrangement for contact. We might as well have been living in separate cities.

“Maybe he’ll get sick.” I said it out loud, surprising myself. I turned around and checked, just to make sure I was still alone. I finished the thought under my breath, speculating about the probability of making Pete physically ill with sheer willpower: Maybe he’ll inhale some fumes in chem lab and puke his brains out.

I lowered my head until it rested on the desk. It was heartbreaking—knowing that tonight, my precious Amy would be with Pete. But the larger truth was downright crippling: She had accepted Pete’s invitation, which meant she probably would have accepted mine.

It could have been me—if I had just said something. I’d had the advantage for over two weeks, but what had I done with it? Nothing.

If I had been creative, like Pete, I would have thought of the bus stop. I could have met her there. She might have even recognized me from class. It would have been so easy. But I had waited. And now it was too late. Too f*cking late for me. But not for Pete. Sh*t no. Pete’s just in time.

The millstone of pity pinning my head to the desk exploded into shards of anger. I bolted upright in the seat, my hands clinched into fight-ready fists. I wanted to strike out with savage, brutal force. If I could be granted a single wish, it would be for Herculean strength, the kind that would enable me to lift Pete off his feet and viciously slam him into the stadium fence with enough impact to push him through the chain link, reducing his body to a bloody pulp of crushed bone and serrated skin.

The sound of advancing voices jolted me back to reality. Others were beginning to drift into the classroom. I took a deep breath and tried to calm down, not wanting anyone to see how agitated I was.

Brief Synopsis:

Amy is the ultimate trophy girl—gorgeous face, killer body, and a vivacious personality. But there’s something else about her, something that makes her even more special. Amy is new. A transfer student from out of state, she’s starting her senior year without knowing a soul. And that means she’s up for grabs, available.

Infatuated from the moment he sees her, David is determined to meet Amy, and if the fates are willing, to spend the rest of his life with her. But his shyness prevents him from approaching her—until his friends devise a contest to determine who will be the first to prove their manhood by seducing her.

Author Bio:

Jaye Frances is the author of the new romance novella, The Possibilities of Amy, and the paranormal-occult romance book The Kure, the first novel in The Kure series. She is also a featured columnist for the NUSA SUN magazine. Jaye was born in the Midwest and grew up surrounded by traditional values and conservative attitudes (which she quickly discarded). She readily admits that her life’s destination has been the result of an open mind and a curiosity about all things irreverent. When she’s not consumed by her writing, Jaye enjoys cooking, traveling to all places tropical and “beachy” and taking pictures—lots of pictures—many of which find their way to her website. Jaye lives on the central gulf coast of Florida, sharing her home with one husband, six computers, four cameras, and several hundred pairs of shoes. For more information, visit Jaye’s website at www.jayefrances.com, or Jaye’s Blog at http://blog.jayefrances.com